


Vulcan Tastes

by EntreNous



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Cooking, Dinner, First Dates, M/M, Stand Alone, Vulcan Culture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 15:30:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5253551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EntreNous/pseuds/EntreNous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jim invites Spock over to his place for dinner, Spock isn't certain what to expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vulcan Tastes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [noodleinabarrel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/noodleinabarrel/gifts).



> Written for the prompt, "Jim cooks dinner for Spock." Darn these ficlets that get longer than they're supposed to!

When Spock reached Jim's unit in the apartment building, he hesitated. It was not rational to smooth his hair before he signaled his presence, and yet he did. Perhaps it was because this would be the first time he would appear before Jim in his civilian garb rather than his customary uniform. Or perhaps it was because of his uncertainty over what Jim intended for this evening's meeting. 

"Oh my god, I can't believe you're going on a date with Jim Kirk," Nyota had said just earlier that day when he met her on Starfleet's campus, her attractive eyes widened and her hand covering her mouth slightly. Though he could not see her entire expression, Spock gathered from the slight wrinkling of her nose that she was very much amused. 

"It is not a date," Spock had said stiffly. "We are meeting to 'catch up,' as per Jim's request. Given that he has only lately been deemed fully recovered by Starfleet Medical, it seemed sensible to meet at his quarters."

"Spock," she had said in that half-fond, half-exasperated tone he well knew. "You're going to his place. For dinner. At his off-campus _apartment_."

"Those are the salient facts, yes," he had said, carefully keeping his slight impatience from his tone. 

Her skeptical look had conveyed how unsuccessful he had been, but then Nyota had always been adept at reading his moods. 

"Well, wear something nice," she had advised, gathering her things to leave for her prearranged lunch with Hikaru Sulu. "Just in case, right?" As she had begun to depart, she had turned to give him an exaggerated wink. When he frowned in reply, she laughed and sashayed off. 

Certainly he and Nyota had embarked upon a cautious sort of friendship following their mutually agreed-upon parting of ways romantically, but Spock still felt there was no call for such mischievous gestures.

Later, alone at his quarters, Spock had realized he was uncertain what precisely constituted "something nice." But he had decided not to overthink the matter, donning simple black trousers along with a fitted dark grey sweater he had on two separate occasions been told looked attractive on his person.

Now, standing before Jim's door, he found himself wondering what Jim would choose to wear. He could feel his cheeks briefly flush before he regained control of his bodily reactions, and stifled a sigh. He shifted the bottle of wine he had purchased from one arm to the other, though there was no logic in reconfiguring his already sure grasp on the glass container.

Finally he raised his hand and pressed the buzzer.

"Great, you made it," Jim said excitedly as soon as he flung the old-fashioned door open. He had an orange smudge on his cheek and his hair was ruffled as though he had been tugging on it. He appeared to wear a pair of faded blue denims and a white t-shirt, but Spock could not view the items closely, for over the outfit Jim had put on an apron which appeared spattered with particles of food.

Before Spock could reply, a harsh alarm went off.

"My Farr-kahli!" Jim exclaimed. He darted off in the direction of what presumably was the kitchen. 

Spock ventured inside, where he could instantly smell all manner of cooked vegetables and spices wafting through the air. "Do you require assistance?" he called.

"Nope! Just grab a seat, relax, and I'll bring us something to drink in a sec."

Spock glanced out the scenic bay window in the living room, and stood at parade rest. 

"Have any trouble finding the place?" Jim called, his voice somewhat muffled.

"Negative." Spock cleared his throat. "Upon advisement from a source familiar with such customs, I have purchased a bottle of wine for your enjoyment." 

"Oh, you didn't have to do that. Look, I made us tea," Jim answered. He hurried into the room with a tray bearing two mugs and set it upon a low table. A moment later he took the wine from Spock and squinted at the label before setting the bottle carefully atop a decorative mantelpiece. 

A familiar scent reached Spock's nostrils before he had the mug fully cradled in his hands. "It is Vulcan spice tea," he said in surprise.

"Well, yeah. I mean, I said I'd have you over for dinner, and I wanted to serve stuff you would like. So you like the tea?"

Spock guardedly took a sip. "It is more than adequate," he said. He took a larger draught.

Jim grinned widely. "Awesome. Stay right there, and I'll get the food." 

"Okay," Jim announced when he reemerged with another tray bearing steaming plates. "We've got Farr-kahli, we've got T'mirak rice, and there's Tolik fruit for dessert. Oh, damn it, I forgot the Kreyla!" After putting the tray down on the floor with a _plonk_ that caused some of the plates' contents to spill slightly, he jogged back to the kitchen. 

There was not a proper table for dining, so they took their plates and napkins and utensils and balanced everything with care as they sat in the two lounge chairs that faced the bay window. 

"This is well-prepared," Spock said after he had tasted both the rice and the main dish.

"Thanks." Jim ducked his head and smiled in a manner Spock only saw when the two of them spoke privately. "You're sure it's okay?"

"I find it extremely palatable." Spock took another bite of the T'mirak and asked curiously, "From what establishment did you procure these pre-made items?"

When Jim's fork fell with a clatter, Spock at once ascertained that he had voiced something offensive.

Jim shook his head slightly; he appeared utterly crestfallen. "Spock, what did you think, that I went out and _bought_ all this stuff? You thought I'd serve you Vulcan food out of take-out containers and try to pass it off as my own?"

Spock froze for a moment before he took another look at his plate. "Everything is so adeptly cooked...I confess I did imagine you had purchased the dishes."

Jim huffed and put his plate on the floor at his side. "I can't believe you. You honestly think I would put on some dumb apron and fake cooking to impress you?" He crossed his arms over his t-shirt in a defensive posture and frowned at his abandoned meal. "You know, I bought two Vulcan cookbooks last week before I even got up the nerve to invite you over."

"It appears that I have misapprehended the situation," Spock said quickly.

"I even made Bones sit through two separate rounds of Pok Tar before I decided that wouldn't make the cut for the menu! Plus we had to try three different Vulcan fruits before we could find one that didn't make me break out in hives!"

"I see." Spock too set his plate down on the floor. 

"I can cook lots of things, you know," Jim continued, evidently still very irritated. "My grandmother used to show me everything she did in the kitchen. It came in handy when I had to fend for myself, with my mom gone on mission half the time."

"I was not aware of that aspect of your childhood," Spock said.

Jim glared out the window as if he couldn't bear to look at Spock. A pall had unquestionably been cast over the meal since Spock had doubted the origin of its components.

Even so, Spock began to feel a strange surge of something very like hope blossom inside him.

"You learned an entirely new cuisine so that you might serve it to me?" he asked.

"Yeah, well." Jim scowled. 

"You required, as you say, 'nerve' to extend an invitation to me?"

Jim slowly blew out a breath. "Did I say that part out loud?"

"Please understand, though I did not know of your skill in cooking, I am well aware of your ability to learn with rapidity any new information you decide is crucial," Spock said. "I did not suspect you of subterfuge; I only assumed that you would have bought the dishes at a specialty shop. After all, I myself have no talent for cookery. Any non-replicated Vulcan items I have tasted since starting my training at Starfleet have been from restaurants specializing in wide varieties of alien fare." 

"Oh. Okay," Jim said after a moment. He tried a small smile. "I didn't mean to get all worked up. I just really wanted you to have a good time tonight. And I guess I wanted to show off a little." He laughed, a note of self-consciousness edging the sound. 

Spock leaned over, and reached out toward Jim. Jim blinked at him with some confusion, but did not seem as though he wished to avoid closer contact.

Spock brushed his thumb over Jim's cheek, wiping away the orange smudge that remained there. Jim flushed an enticing shade of pink. 

"Um," Jim whispered.

"A small portion of Farr-kahli had splashed on your skin," Spock murmured.

Jim's cheeks went fully red, and he made a choking sound. "Okay, so that's embarrassing." He began to draw back slightly. 

"You should not experience unease," Spock went on in a low voice. He cupped Jim's jaw lightly in his hand, enjoying the heat against his skin. "I consider your efforts a great success."

Jim licked his lips. "Yeah?"

As Spock began to rise out of his seat, Jim stood at once. He made a soft pleased sound when Spock kissed him lightly, and his warm mouth tasted tantalizingly of spice tea.


End file.
